


Acts of compassion

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6034602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 19 of the Mapmaker Series. A human woman joins the company of Thorin Oakenshield on the quest to Erebor as a mapmaker and finds a lifelong love.</p>
<p>Thorin has to advocate with Thranduil for Kili and Tauriel’s relationship, and the mapmaker and the elven King make amends for the events in "Acts of defiance."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acts of compassion

The crispness of autumn was in the air that late afternoon, and birds gracefully swooped and dove across the dazzlingly blue sky as you sat at the edge of the pool where the river tarried just outside the Gate of Erebor before flowing forth across the valley. You were happy and peaceful in the fresh air, small under that wide sky, doing nothing but enjoying the view and occasionally picking up nearby pebbles to throw into the water, watching the tiny splashes. Your contentment was made complete when you looked up to see Thorin emerge from the Gate and walk toward you, his face wearing the affectionate smile he always had for you. He sank to the ground beside you, leaning to lightly kiss you, tucking a lock of hair that had been loosened by the breeze behind your ear. “How has the day treated you?” you asked, smiling. 

“Well enough,” he answered, then fell silent, gazing into the pool. 

You knew him too well, and reached to stroke his cheek, making him turn to meet your searching look. “What is it, love?” 

He smiled, both amused by and appreciative of your ability to read his moods. “Kili and Fili have come back.” 

Your eyes widened. You had all been anxiously awaiting the brothers’ return from Esgaroth. “What does Kili say of Tauriel?” 

Thorin looked out out over the valley. “They wish to marry.” 

You digested this in silence for a moment before asking, “what are you going to do?” 

He shook his head, his palms facing skyward in a gesture of helplessness. “He is in love, and I have promised him my help.” He paused, then admitted, a bit sheepishly, “and in truth, he is so happy, it would be a harder heart than mine that could refuse him.” He was quiet again, rolling a pebble between his fingers before throwing it into the water. At last, he said, “I will have to meet with Thranduil, there is no avoiding it. The girl has no parents, and the thing must be done properly. I will not shelter this elf-maid in Erebor without his agreement.” 

You took a deep breath. “Would you have him come here?” 

“No. I spoke with Bard about it when we were his guests in the summer, he offered Dale as a meeting place and his services as a mediator should it come to this.” 

“That was good of him.” 

He nodded, then said, “amrâlimê…I would like you to be there as well.” 

“Me?” you asked in disbelief. “Thorin, far be it from me to question your judgment, but, if you will recall, I left my handprint on his face at our first encounter.” 

He smirked in spite of himself, still cherishing your fierce love for him, and clasped your hand. “I know,” he said, bringing your palm to his lips, “but I believe that your presence may help to calm the waters. You are a credit to me, and to my house, and I am stronger and wiser with you by my side.” 

You smiled fondly and slowly nodded. “As you wish.” 

He leaned again to kiss you, more deeply this time, his hand cupping your cheek. “Ready to go home?” he asked, and helped you to your feet, where you stood brushing the dust from your skirts. Thorin looked lovingly at you, his hand going to the slight curve of your belly. “How fares the little one?” he smiled. 

“It is well…growing,” you chuckled. 

He beamed, giving you a tender caress before taking your hand in his, and you walked together inside the Gate.

Only a few weeks later, on an unseasonably warm evening, you stood in the king’s residence in Dale with Thorin, Fili, Balin, and Bard, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the contingent from Mirkwood. Kili and Tauriel had been bidden to remain in Erebor and Mirkwood, respectively, and though Kili chafed at being left out of the discussions, he had wisely decided that submission to Thorin’s commands was his best chance for a successful suit. 

Fili kept shifting from one foot to the other, restlessly stroking his mustache braids, and though Thorin gave you a reassuring nod, his hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched with his underlying agitation.

At last the heavy door opened with a thud, and Thranduil swept in, accompanied by two other elves who appeared to be older than he, though it was difficult to tell. The elven king was a striking figure, as ever, perhaps even more so in the modest surroundings in Dale than he had been amidst the grandeur of his palace in the forest. His long robe of silver brocade trailed behind him, and his flaxen hair draped over his shoulders like a waterfall. His pale face was impassive as he approached the waiting group, and Bard stepped forward. “King Thranduil, welcome.” 

Thranduil bowed his head to Bard with a stately smile, then turned his eyes on Thorin, who cleared his throat and nodded in greeting, if a bit stiffly. “Thranduil.” 

The muscles in Thranduil’s jaw flexed, ever so slightly. “Oakenshield.” 

Bard’s voice cut through the tension in the room as he moved to greet Thranduil’s advisors, introducing them to Balin, who stepped forward gamely to meet them, and Fili, whom you knew was gritting his teeth as he bowed his head in welcome. 

Thorin acknowledged the other elves, then stepped aside to gesture toward you where you had been lurking just behind him. “And the jewel in the crown of Durin, my wife, the Queen.” 

Your eyes met Thranduil’s, and there was an element of appraisal in the look that passed between you. Thinking of Kili, you swallowed your pride and swept a curtsy, dropping your eyes as you addressed him. “King Thranduil.” 

When you looked up again, he regarded you with a slightly raised eyebrow before gracefully inclining his head and saying in his silky voice, “my lady.” He addressed himself to Bard again. “If you will forgive me, it has been a long journey, and I would like to retire for the evening.” 

“Of course,” Bard agreed, “let me call for someone to show you to your chamber.” 

Thranduil murmured his thanks, and as Bard made to escort him and his entourage out, turned to Thorin’s party once more. “Until tomorrow, then,” he said, with a smile that was polite, if lacking in warmth. The door closed behind them, and there was a collective exhaling as you all looked at one another. 

“Well,” Balin offered at last, hopefully, “that could have been worse.”

Night had fallen, and in one of the comfortably appointed guest rooms, you and Thorin lay pleasantly breathless in each other’s arms. His lips caressed your forehead and the palm of your hand drifted lazily back and forth over his chest as its rise and fall gradually slowed. The window was open to allow the night air in, but the room was still warm, and your skin, pressed against his, was damp with a sheen of sweat. Thorin released you reluctantly as you sat up. “Are you all right?” he murmured, reaching to gently rub your back. 

“I’m fine,” you smiled, bending to kiss him, “just hot. I’m going to go and get a breath of fresh air.” 

“I will come with you,” he moved to get up, but you shook your head, placing your hand on his shoulder. 

“You are weary, rest. I will just go to the garden and come right back.” 

“Right back,” he admonished. 

“I promise,” you answered, pulling on a nightgown and a robe and stepping into your shoes.

As soon as you entered the small, walled garden, you spied the unmistakable figure seated on a bench along the gravel path, his silvery-blond hair white in the darkness. You froze, and thought to turn and leave in silence, but Thranduil’s keen elvish hearing had alerted him to your presence even before you’d seen him. 

“You are free to stay.” 

Halted in your retreat, you turned back and walked closer to where he sat. “I am sorry, King Thranduil, I did not wish to intrude upon your solitude.” He said nothing in response, but continued to gaze at the last of the summer-blooming flowers that lingered on their plants. “It is a beautiful garden,” you remarked, feeling as though you ought to say something. 

“Indeed,” he replied, to your surprise. He turned to look at you intently, and even in the moonlight, you were reminded of how icy-blue his eyes were. He spoke again abruptly. “Do you not find it oppressive, to live buried under rock, in a place where nothing grows?” 

You instinctively bristled at the question, yet, sensing that he was asking you, but thinking of Tauriel, you paused before answering. “In truth, I have never thought of Erebor that way,” you replied slowly. “You say that we are buried…but to my mind, the mountain protects us, it shelters us, even yields us its treasures. And above all, it is where Thorin is, and therefore where I am content. Would you not agree,” you ventured, “that home may be a person as much as a place?”

Thranduil regarded you with curiosity, as if presented with some strange creature. “You truly do love him, don’t you?” 

You frowned. “Of course…he is my husband.” 

He smirked dismissively. “You are naive. There are many kings whose wives do not love them.” 

“Thorin is an exception.” 

“Then he is fortunate indeed.” 

“And you, King Thranduil, were you likewise fortunate?” The words tumbled out boldly, and you held your breath, fearing you’d gone too far, but no angry reaction came. He dropped his eyes to his hands, laden with jeweled rings and folded in his lap, and after a moment’s silence said, quietly, “yes.” 

“Forgive me, I should not pry,” you said contritely.

You tactfully turned your gaze away from him to examine the silky petals of a flower, and your hand went unconsciously to your belly, as had become your habit as it grew. The gesture did not escape Thranduil’s notice. 

“You carry a child,” he observed, his eyebrows raised delicately. 

“Yes,” you said, self-consciously dropping your hand. 

He looked away from you again with a small smile, but it seemed to you that it was tinged with sadness. “It is a wonderful thing to be a parent.” 

You looked at him thoughtfully, feeling the first stirrings of pity. “I have heard of your son’s great deeds in the battle…Fili and Kili came home alive because of his help, and Tauriel’s. We will always be grateful,” you said quietly. “You must be very proud of him.” 

“I am,” he said, an edge of bitterness in his words, “though I fear I may never have the opportunity to tell him so.” 

When you spoke again, your voice was soft, sincere, and it made him look up at you with surprise in his eyes. “I hope you will see him again.”

Thranduil nodded, and you felt suddenly shy. “I should be going…Thorin will be waiting for me,” you explained, and he turned his attention once again to the blooms around him. “Well…good night,” you said, and walked toward the garden’s entrance. Again, his voice stopped you. 

“I once treated you rudely, on the occasion of our first meeting.“ 

You chuckled softly to yourself and turned to look back at him. “And I repaid you in kind, therefore the debt is settled.” 

He looked at you for a moment, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips, before inclining his head as he slowly placed his hand over his heart and then extended it toward you. You bowed your head to him, a smile lighting your face, and left him in the garden.

* * *

 

As you both dressed in the morning, you told Thorin about your conversation in the garden with Thranduil. “Truly, I felt sorry for him,” you mused, lacing up the bodice of your gown. “He has lost his wife, his son has left him, he sits alone and bitter behind his gates in Mirkwood…I do believe it is heartache that has hardened him.” 

“Well, if he has some experience of love, let us hope he may be sympathetic to Kili and his elf-maid,” Thorin replied. 

“Tauriel, Thorin, her name is Tauriel,” you reproached him gently. “If she becomes Kili’s wife, you cannot always be calling her ‘elf-maid.’” 

“…to Kili and _Tauriel,_ ” he corrected himself pointedly, and you smiled wryly, smoothing the front of his coat over his broad chest. 

“I know this is difficult for you,” you said, “but think of the joy that may come to Kili.” 

He nodded steadfastly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I have Kili’s happiness always in mind.” 

“I am very proud of my husband,” you said softly, giving him a kiss. 

“Thank you, amrâlimê,” he replied, smiling in spite of his dread of the morning’s business. He took a deep breath. “Shall we?” he asked, releasing you from the embrace and offering you his arm. You entwined your arm with his, and together you walked to the meeting hall of the King’s residence.

Once again, the party from Erebor had arrived first, and awaited Thranduil’s attendance. “Likes to make an entrance, doesn’t he?” Fili grumbled in his seat at Thorin’s right hand, as the four of you sat in a line along one side of the long table, facing empty chairs opposite. You looked at Balin, on your left, who gave you an encouraging smile. 

“Surely he won’t be long, now,” he remarked mildly. 

Bard stood calmly looking out of the window as the minutes ticked by, a relaxed counterpoint to the thinly veiled irritation of your husband and his nephew. Despite your anticipation, you were startled when the door actually opened to admit Thranduil. To everyone’s confusion, he was alone, his solemn-faced advisors nowhere in sight. 

“I apologize for my lateness,” Thranduil said, with a graceful bow of his head. 

“Well, no matter, we can get started now,” Bard said briskly, and moved to take a seat at the table, but he was stopped by Thranduil’s next words. 

“I wonder if we might speak without our councillors,” he said quietly, looking at Thorin, “one king to another.” 

Thorin’s eyebrow shot up at his choice of words, but Thranduil’s expression was placid, and after a moment’s consideration, Thorin nodded to Fili and Balin, and they rose from their chairs, looking warily at Thranduil. You also got to your feet and made to leave, but Thranduil spoke again. 

“The Queen is welcome to stay.” 

You looked questioningly at Thorin, and he gestured toward your chair, which you resumed, exchanging curious glances with Fili and Balin as Bard ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

When the other three were gone, Thranduil sat down and was silent for a moment, appearing to study the rings on his fingers as you and Thorin waited uneasily to hear what he had to say. At last, he turned his piercing gaze on Thorin. “Can you guarantee that Tauriel will be well-treated by your people, if she marries your prince?” 

The question was not what either of you had expected, and Thorin paused, choosing his words carefully. “If she marries Kili,” he answered slowly, gravely, “I give you my word that she will be accepted into our home and into my family. She will be under my protection accordingly.” 

“And do you vouch that he will be a worthy husband, this nephew of yours?” Thranduil asked determinedly. 

“The sons of Durin do not love by halves, nor do they make vows lightly. She will be cherished,” Thorin answered, meeting Thranduil’s stare unflinchingly. You dropped your eyes to your lap to hide a small, proud smile, but looked up again when Thranduil next addressed you. 

“My lady, what is your opinion of the prince as a prospective husband?” 

Like Thorin, you had a sense that much hung on your words, but you could only speak from your heart. “Kili was my friend long before he became my kin,” you began, “and I know beyond doubt that he is honorable, faithful, and kindhearted. In truth,” you said simply, “if I were to have a daughter, I should be content for her to marry a man such as Kili is.” 

Thorin reached to squeeze your hand under the table and Thranduil nodded, falling silent again. It was so quiet in the room that you could hear the breeze rustling the leaves of the young trees outside the window, but Thranduil finally spoke, a curious mixture of resignation and hope in his voice. “If a life in Erebor is truly the desire of Tauriel’s heart, I will not stand against the marriage.” 

You and Thorin exchanged fleeting glances of surprise before Thorin responded, “I and my kinsman thank you. We will do all in our power to make her welcome.” 

Thranduil stood, and you both followed suit. He inclined his head courteously, first to Thorin and then to you, and left the room with his ornate robe flowing behind him. You turned to Thorin with an astonished look, and he shook his head, saying frankly, “I am amazed.” A smile gradually broke over his face, and you laughed with sheer relief. 

“I cannot wait to tell Kili,” you grinned, and he chuckled. 

“Let’s go and find the others.”

By the time you walked through Dale the next morning with your faces turned toward home, arrangements had been made for an official betrothal to take place, with plans for the wedding to begin in earnest afterwards. Fili and Balin had been stunned by the turn of events at the meeting with Thranduil, and it was still sinking in for all of you that Kili would truly be allowed to claim his love at last. You were a merry group as you traveled – scolding through laughter at Fili’s jest that you should all put on grave expressions and tell Kili that Thranduil had refused, just to tease him – and all of you eager to get back to the mountain and break the good news.

Unbeknownst to you, Thranduil watched you leave from a balcony in Bard’s house, as pale and motionless as a statue. His thoughts returned to the day of the battle, to that still hour of deathly silence after the clash of blades and the twang of bowstrings had ceased. He had seen these streets littered with the bodies of his people…had looked for the last time upon the face of his son, feeling his heart torn by that farewell…had stumbled upon Kili and Tauriel in a joyful embrace. 

The dwarf had wept unashamedly as he held her close, speaking tenderly to her, and her eyes shone with tears, and with something else more intangible. Thranduil had turned away unnoticed, an intruder on the happy scene, but it remained in his mind as he walked alone to the elves’ camp in the valley. His harsh words to Tauriel earlier in the day echoed cruelly in his mind until at last his lips had whispered the words his heart could no longer deny.

_“It is real.”_

 


End file.
